From the Eyes of a Stranger
by karabell-karaboo723
Summary: We all know how the tragic deaths of Dally and Johnny impacted the gang, but what about the other people of Tulsa? Their funeral as seen from the eyes of a teenager named Cynthia. T for cussing/ brief sexual references in chapter 2. OC alert.


**I decided to just write a short little ****Outsiders**** story just because. This will only be a two shot, so don't expect too much. This is about how a random girl took the deaths of Johnny and Dally. It just came to me one night, and I wrote it really quick. **

**I am also attempting to get over my writer's block, so if this sucks, I don't care all that much because I'm just happy that I wrote something. **

**I looked up popular baby names from the early to mid 1950s, as I think that the book takes place between 1967 and 1969. Correct me if I'm wrong.**

**From the Eyes of a Stranger**

Cynthia Radley hadn't personally known Dallas Winston, but golly, she sure did know him. Just about everyone in Tulsa, and possibly the entire state of Oklahoma did. He was a hood, not just a greaser, and it was a well supported theory that he would die young and most likely in a shootout. Just not this young or in a shootout quite like this. So, when she had seen the head lines of the newspaper that morning (Former Hero Killed by Police After Robbing Bank) she wasn't all that surprised. But things changed when she got to school.

First of all, Steve Randall, one of Dally's gang, was actually there on time for once. It turns out that he sat behind her in Homeroom, but she had never really noticed because he ditched so often. He didn't look all that different than the last time she had seen him (about a ten school days ago in a class she could only assume was Geometry) and that surprised her. She knew she would be sobbing her eyes out if one of her friends died. But, he was a Greaser, and Greasers don't cry. At least, they didn't cry around people.

A few people looked like they wanted to tell him something, but after seeing his angry scowl, none approached him. Cynthia, however, would not be deterred. After the bell rang, she clenched her teeth and walked on up to him.

"Hi." she whispered in a barely audible voice. He didn't even turn around, though he jerked his head a bit which meant he must have heard her. "Um, you don't know me, but I'm Cynthia and I sit in front of you in Homeroom." She said a bit louder.

"I, um, I saw the paper this morning and I know that you were friends and all with Dallas, and I'm awful sorry that he died, especially like that." She stuttered quickly

Steve turned around and gave her his nastiest glare. The one that was usually reserved for Socs or people who gave his dreamy best friend, Soda, a hard time for dropping out. She quickly averted her eyes and continued.

"I-I-I also think that's its terrible how that boy, Johnny Cade, died as well. I mean, he was only sixteen or so, and I know you two were friends as well and-"

"Do you want something?" asked Steve a bit too harshly for her liking.

""No, no! I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was-"she started, but Steve cut her off again

"Look, I don't like the whole 'pity the poor underprivileged Greaser' act, so knock it off and get out of here." Snapped Steve

Cynthia had to resist the urge to answer him like she would if he was her father, by saying "Yes, sir" very loudly. Her father was a military Commander in Vietnam right now.

"Well, it's just that I know how it feels to lose someone close to you. I mean, my dad and brother are off fighting and my grandfather died as well, you know, so I get-" she defended

"If you want to talk about dead relatives, I suggest you head on over to the DX that way you and Soda can talk about it until the hens come home, or just anywhere away from me." Said Steve as he gave her one final glare and stormed off to his next class.

* * *

It wasn't until third period, a good two and a half hours or so after she had attempted to talk to Steve, that she found out more about Friday night. **(I can't find my copy of the book, so correct me if I'm wrong)** in accordance with the most popular rumors, Dallas' gun had not actually been loaded. He had pulled it wanting to be shot to death. No one really understood why he was so close to that boy, Johnny, whose death, it seemed, pushed him over the edge. Another rumor going around concerned "good girl" Sandy Hopkins and her sudden departure from school. Everyone knew that she was pregnant, but now people were saying that the baby wasn't actually Soda's. The rumored fathers ranged from an out of town friend to a college boy to that she was raped and even that Dallas Winston was the real father and that was why he went and got himself killed.

One thing was obvious, though, Soda wasn't the father. People had come up to Darry asking about Sandy, and he would get a look as if he was smelling something rotten, then he would usually grumble about her or even cuss her out occasionally.

* * *

She looked up at her destination. She and her friends weren't exactly "regulars" at the DX, but they weren't strangers. They usually came to fill up the car on Saturdays or Fridays because everyone knew that Soda worked on those days. He was here today as well, and looking a bit worse for the wear.

"Hi, Soda." Cynthia said, in her quiet mousey voice.

"Hello, just fill up the tank?" he said, his eyes down cast and full of sorrow.

"Yes, thank you. Um, I heard about Dallas in the paper and also about Johnny, and I'm so sorry. I cant even begin to imagine what it must be like to lose one friend, let alone two! And, someone told me that your brother is going to court and all-" blurted out Cynthia. Being around a boy as handsome as Soda could make girls like Sylvia, even, go weak at the knees.

"Your name Cynthia?" he asked suddenly while looking up at her

"Um, yes? Why?" she asked, a bit flustered

"According to Steve, you're a real piece of work." He said, a hint of a smile on his face, as he shook his long, gorgeous head of hair

"Oh." She replied, as she remembered the "conversation" she had attempted to have with Steve that morning.

"The funerals are next Sunday at eleven. Not too fancy, we don't have the money for that. But, you can come if you want." He said, in the same emotionless and monotone voice he had held for almost the entire conversation.

"Well, I didn't really know them so I don't know if their families would be-" started Cynthia, but Soda cut her off

"Their real families don't give a damn about them, so we're taking care of it. It'd just be nice if there were a few people there to act like they ever actually cared about them, you know?" said Soda, as he finished up

"Oh, well, I guess I'll go then." Cynthia decided. After all, she thought, everyone deserved to have a nice funeral, at the very least.

"Great, Steve'll be thrilled." Said Soda, as he walked off with a look that could have almost been a sarcastic grin. And Steve would be "thrilled" that a nut case like her was coming to the funerals of some of his closest friends.

* * *

So, Cynthia, a middle class girl, was now going to the funerals of two Greasers that she had never met. How on earth did she go from trying to tell the dead boys' friends that she was sorry the two boys were dead, to attending their funerals? What if someone tried to knife her while she was there? And what on earth should she wear? At least Two-Bit was there. She knew him pretty well, seeing as they had English together and he always copied her homework. Not that that was a real relationship, but at least more than two people there would know her name. She hoped.

* * *

**Ah, yes, what one writes at two in the morning while suffering from intense writer's block. **

**Should I continue, or should I just end it here? If I do continue, there will only be two more chapters, tops. **

**Well, please review.**


End file.
